


who cares what picture you see

by gothyringwald



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: Credence wants to seeLondon After Midnight. Graves doesn't like mysteries or horror films. He goes with Credence, anyway.Credence loves the pictures. They go once, or twice, a week and Credence devours them with a voracity that doesn't surprise Graves. Credence has an endless hunger for knowledge, fictional or real. High-brow or low. But he is particularly fond of cinema. Dramas, comedies, romances – the new talkies had left him, ironically, speechless – and, especially, horrors and mysteries.





	who cares what picture you see

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this since May (after [I posted this](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/160420577658/credence-dragging-graves-to-the-pictures-to-see)). D:
> 
> This is set in the same timeline as [Moon Over Coney Island](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10694433) , but it's a completely standalone fic. (Feel free to read the other, though, if you want ;D) 
> 
> Title from _Saturday Night at the Movies_ by The Drifters

Winter, 1927

 

An icy wind gusts past, catching Graves's coat, chilling his knees. His breath fogs in the air and he edges closer to Credence where they wait in line outside the Capitol Theatre. The marquee lights shine down on them, on the No-Majes standing before and behind them, all rugged up in their winter finery. Mufflers and fur coats and thick gloves. Beside Graves, Credence, dressed in a double breasted coat, trimmed with a fur collar, bounces with poorly concealed excitement. A young file clerk at MACUSA had told Credence he took his best girl to see _London After Midnight_ , earlier that week, and Credence has been talking about the film ever since.

Graves smiles as Credence cranes his neck to look above the heads of the people in front of them, eyes flickering over the distance between where they stand and the ticket booth. He settles back and crosses his arms with an impatient huff. Credence loves the pictures. They go once, or twice, a week and Credence devours them with a voracity that doesn't surprise Graves. Credence has an endless hunger for knowledge, fictional or real. High-brow or low. But he is particularly fond of cinema. Dramas, comedies, romances – the new talkies had left him, ironically, speechless – and, especially, horrors and mysteries.

That morning, Graves had said, casually, 'Would you like to see _London After Midnight_ , tonight?', as though Credence hadn't spent the past week talking about Lon Chaney. He turned a page in _The Ghost_ , peeking at Credence from over the top. 'It's still playing at the Capitol.'

'Only if you want to,' Credence had replied, aiming for nonchalant and failing dismally, cheeks dimpled as he tried to suppress an eager smile. He is better at admitting that he wants, now, but his confidence ebbs, and he still sometimes hides his desires behind Graves's. Graves doesn't mind, so long as Credence isn't left silently wanting, loves the younger man for his shyness, besides. It's as much a part of him as his sly humour, his mischievous streak, his impatience.

Graves had looked at Credence's expectant face, thought that he had seen enough monsters in his life and would rather watch a comedy or one of the melodramatic romances that make Credence swoon and Graves roll his eyes. But he had set down his paper, said, 'Of course,' and Credence's answering smile was more than enough to get him through sixty minutes of 'the man of a thousand faces'.

They get to the front of the line and Graves pays for two tickets, Credence's breath warm on the back of his neck as he leans close to whisper 'those two, the quarters', though Graves can handle No-Maj currency well enough on his own, by now. The girl in the booth – sporting Marcel waves and vampish red lips – smiles at Credence over Graves's shoulder, her lashes lowered coquettishly. Graves is torn between pride and the urge to level her with a glare. He settles somewhere between, knowing Credence has no interest in anyone but him, and that Credence is a beautiful young man, will always draw attention. How can he blame the girl for looking at Credence like he's a marvel, when it's all he wants to do himself, some days?

They check their coats and hats, make their way into the theatre, where they are greeted by an usher in a crisp, sleek uniform, who shows them to their seats. The first time they had come to the Capitol, Credence had stopped, dead still, mouth slack in awe. 'What is it?' Graves had asked, concerned, and Credence only stammered, 'I-it's _beautiful_.'

And it is beautiful, gold pilasters and balusters, intricate plasterwork on the lofty ceiling, velvet curtains at every entrance. The lobby alone is a sight to see, with its grand marble staircase, shimmering chandeliers, urns brimming with vibrant flowers. Graves has been in many fine buildings, is almost immune to their charm after working at MACUSA, but seeing the Capitol Theatre through Credence's eyes had awoken a new appreciation for them in him. He surveys the auditorium in the soft, warm light. A palace, indeed.

The lights dim and a hush falls over the auditorium. The scent of smuggled popcorn, the whisper of paper, the creak of chairs, float through the air. They sit in the balcony, first row, centre. Credence leans on the banister while the newsreels and shorts play, drumming his fingers and bouncing his foot, waiting for the feature. Nearby, two teenage girls whisper behind their hands, and giggle, pointing at a slightly older boy a few seats over, who seems oblivious to the effect he's having on them. An older couple sits next to Graves and Credence, hands threaded together, leaning into each other. Graves smiles and his eyes slide to Credence who is still slouched forward, eyes roaming over the crowd, the ornate ceiling above them, following the beam of light from the projectionist's booth.

When the credits start, Credence sits back, leaning close to Graves, both of their arms squashed together on the slim armrest between their seats. Graves can smell the soap that lingers from the shower they took together before they left, remembers Credence's slick skin, warm and solid under his hands, and shifts in his seat. Credence glances over at him, smiling wide, before he turns his attention back to the screen where it remains, transfixed, for the duration of the feature.

Graves reaches into his jacket for a secreted pack of Milk Duds, and offers it to Credence. Credence, eyes glued to the screen, grabs it with a fumbling hand, and opens the pack, popping the candy into his mouth. Graves smiles and opens his own pack of Raisinets. He's become quite fond of No-Maj candy on their movie dates. He glances at Credence, sidelong, flickering light ghosting over the face Graves will never tire of watching, as the young man happily munches his candy, enraptured by the scene unfolding before him.

On the screen, Lon Chaney looms in the guise of the 'vampire', bugged eyes and sharpened teeth, while in the theatre, the orchestra's accompaniment turns ominous. Though Credence has seen far more frightening things, housed more frightening things inside of him, his eyes still widen in dread, round and shining. A little too round, Graves thinks suspiciously, as he watches Credence's face in the silvery blue light, wondering if this is just a show for him. But he doesn't mind, happy to play the protector. Especially with the warm press of Credence's long fingers against his. The way he squeezes them in each scary scene, his little gasps, his other hand coming to cover his mouth at particularly shocking moments. Fondness wells in Graves, warm and sweet, and he ends up watching Credence more than he does the film.

An hour later, the movie is over, titles proclaiming 'the end' and Credence sags in his seat. 'That was amazing,' he breathes.

Graves's lips twitch. Credence turns to him, elbow propped on the armrest, chin resting in his hand. 'What did you think?'

'Yep, amazing,' he says, leaning forward to straighten Credence's cuff, letting his touch linger on the slim wrist, heedless of the No-Majes around them.

'Did you know Lon Chaney does all of his own makeup?' Credence says, eyes sparkling, and Graves nods. Credence has told him seven times this week, alone, reading to Graves from the same article in his fan magazine. Graves purses his lips, biting the inside of his cheek as Credence continues to gush about the film and its star. When Graves remains silent, Credence's eyes narrow. 'You didn't like the picture, did you?'

Graves shrugs as they stand, and shuffle out of the auditorium along with everyone else, his fingers sitting lightly on the small of Credence's back. 'I prefer comedies.' When Credence had told him, after they had seen _The General_ , that no, Percy, Buster Keaton isn't secretly a wizard, he didn't have to worry about the statute of secrecy, Graves had been the one to gape in awe. He has put his life in danger in the line of duty, but to risk your life for art? Quite another thing indeed. Since then, comedies have been his favourite.

'You mean you prefer ogling Buster Keaton.'

'The man does have a lovely derriere,' says Graves, knowing Credence agrees, even if he's generally too polite to say so. He sidesteps the teenage girls who bustle past him, still whispering conspiratorially, then adds, low, 'Though not as lovely as yours.'

Credence rolls his eyes, lips quirked. 'Why did you suggest this film, if you prefer comedies?'

'You wanted to see it.' Graves pauses to hand over the ticket so they can pick up their coats and hats. He helps Credence into his coat and says, 'And you don't like coming alone.' He shrugs his own coat on, heavy wool lined in silk, and flattens the collar down.

The young woman behind the counter wishes them a good evening and they move away, letting other patrons collect their items.

Credence bites his lip, uncertain. 'I could have asked Tina or Queenie...'

'Nonsense,' says Graves. 'I won't have anyone else intruding on our movie night.' Graves nudges his elbow against Credence's. He wishes he could take Credence's hand, but they will have to wait for that.

Credence smiles, then it falters. He ducks his head.

'What's wrong?' Graves steers them away from the No-Majes milling in the lobby, tucking them in a corner.

Credence lowers his voice, lashes dipping. It's an enchanting effect in the glittering light of the chandeliers. 'I wish I could kiss you.'

Graves's heart brims. He looks around then beckons for Credence to follow him. They slip into an alcove, behind a curtain. The heavy fabric swishes against his leg as he pulls it shut. Graves casts a disillusionment charm for good measure. 'Your wish is my command,' he murmurs, then pulls Credence to him. It's a kiss that's more comfort than passion, one that speaks of a life shared.

'I'm glad we saw the film together.' Credence's soft voice, full of sighs, is just audible over the chatter of the people beyond the curtain that shields them.

'Mmm?' Graves kisses the spot below Credence's ear. It makes him shudder against Graves, the way he always does.

Breathless, Credence adds, 'Well, I would have been too frightened alone.'

Graves pulls back, brows raised at Credence's exaggerated tone. His eyes have gone wide, again; he's all batting lashes and pouting lips. He looks like he's trying not to laugh.

Graves smirks. 'I'll keep you safe, sweetheart.' He tucks his fingers under Credence's chin and winks.

Credence takes Graves's hand and kisses his palm. 'I know,' he says, and, before Graves can wonder if they're talking about more than just the film, adds, 'Let's go home. I'm hungry.'

'You just ate your entire box of candy. And most of mine.' Graves pokes his head around the curtain, and leads Credence back into the lobby. No one notices them.

A coy smile winds its way onto Credence's lips. 'I didn't say I was hungry for food.'

'Oh?' Graves raises a brow. It's Credence's turn to wink at him. 'Well, in that case we'd better get you back home,' Graves says, leading the way to the entrance.

'Although if we did stop somewhere on the way home, I wouldn't mind some fried chicken.' Credence pauses, head tilted in thought. 'Oh, and maybe a slice of devil's food cake?'

Graves huffs. 'Fine.'

Credence beams. 'Thank-you, Percy.' He pulls his coat tight around him as they step out into the crisp, winter air. He looks over to Graves, eyes soft and affectionate. 'Next time we can see a comedy, if you like?'

Graves takes Credence's elbow, leading him to an alley so they can apparate safely. A bitter wind whistles past and Graves shivers. He slides his hand down Credence's arm, captures the younger man's hand and squeezes. 'That sounds perfect, my darling.'

**Author's Note:**

> Come [find me on Tumblr](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/) :) my asks/messages are always open.
> 
> I'm rather fond of the idea of a series of fics that are just Graves and Credence going on dates and doing couple-y things but I'm not sure I'll post anymore than this and the Coney Island one. Maybe I'll link them as a 'date night' series, anyway?
> 
> A few notes:
> 
> This is [the Capitol Theatre](http://cinematreasures.org/theaters/522/photos/171204) that they go to. I believe it was the flagship theatre for MGM and, as [_London After Midnight_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_After_Midnight_\(film\)) was an MGM film, I'm assuming it premiered/showed there. (I may have read somewhere that it did but don't remember now. [Here's a neat contemporary review](https://www.newspapers.com/clip/825203/london_after_midnight/) of the film, which mentions the Capitol but there was more than one?)
> 
> So, obviously I haven't seen _London After Midnight_ , as it's a lost film (and I don't fancy watching the reconstruction of pictures, etc), which is why I kept the bits about the movie vague. As an aside, I only just watched _The General_ and I, like Graves, am in complete awe of Buster Keaton's work (and his butt). 
> 
> (I would have mentioned the famous house falling on him scene but _Steamboat Bill Jr_ didn't come out until 1928 – they definitely go see it, though, and Graves is all 'are you SURE he's not a wizard?'). Also that and the bit in this fic are a bit of an (accidental) homage to the 'everyone thinks Charles Lindbergh is a wizard' thing in [the epistolary fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153484) I'm writing with almostannette ;D (which was almostannette's idea and I thought it was really funny.)
> 
> If you caught the 'smuggled popcorn' line, that's because I read in a few places the 'movie palaces' didn't initially let people bring in food but vendors would sell snacks like popcorn outside and patrons would smuggle them in. I'm not entirely sure of the timeline, though, in regards to when they started selling snacks in the theatres but oh well.


End file.
